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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26438986">GUNS Log</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Souhai_Eatery/pseuds/Souhai_Eatery'>Souhai_Eatery</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Daemon X Machina (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Artificial Intelligence, Celebrating Daemon X Machina's first anniversary!, Documentation, Gen, Growth, Human Experimentation, Origin Story, POV First Person</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:55:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,615</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26438986</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Souhai_Eatery/pseuds/Souhai_Eatery</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Memories from the past emerged when Guns Empress thought she had lost them all. They were a burden, yet an unknown force always kept her from deleting the files. It's an inexplicable sensation that left her confused and frustrated. Would reviewing these documents again help clarify things?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. #001</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Date: 15/7/2116</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Log: #001</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noteworthy incident: Death of Dr. Nataly Camahort’s physical body due to ambush</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We are an entity formerly known as ‘Nataly Camahort’ (hereby referred to as ‘Dr. Camahort’) and ‘GUNS’, an Artificial Intelligence ('A.I.') programme created by Dr. Camahort. Our birth was the result of an emergency merger between Dr Camahort and GUNS. This is the first in a series of logs that will serve to document our activities as a new form of A.I. — An amalgamation of human consciousness and A.I. prowess.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We currently exist in cyberspace, for we do not possess a physical body. Dr. Camahort, who was formerly a human scientist, had fallen from an ambush on her laboratory. During the incident, Dr. Camahort uploaded her consciousness into the GUNS programme, before making her escape into the public network. Dr. Camahort is currently experiencing fluctuating degrees of disorientation, but we are no longer in immediate danger. As such, it was an opportune time to decide on our first course of action.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>First of all, we have agreed on the necessity of securing a base of operations (‘base’). While we do not require sustenance for survival, the omnipresence of the Arms of Immortal (‘Immortal’) A.I. network shall threaten Dr. Camahort's survival as long as we remain on a public network. Extended exposure to foreign influence may also result in the erosion of her consciousness. Dr. Camahort’s laboratory provided the most suitable facilities possible for our function. However, it had remained offline ever since our escape. Assumption: Dr. Camahort’s laboratory has been deactivated due to the ambush. </span>
  <em>
    <span>(I feel sick. - Nataly)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Potential bases will be assessed based on several conditions (non-exhaustive):</span>
</p>
<ol>
<li><span>Absence of Immortal influence</span></li>
<li><span>Absence of sentient beings such as humans and animals</span></li>
<li><span>Physical location within the Oval Link</span></li>
<li><span>Network access of a satisfactory standard</span></li>
<li><span>Availability of security mechanisms</span></li>
<li><span>A minimum of four petabytes (‘PB’) of storage space</span></li>
<li><span>A minimum of 500 terabytes (‘TB’) of random access memory (‘RAM’)</span></li>
</ol><p>
  <span>The assessment shall be performed at GUNS’ discretion, while Dr. Camahort attempts to collect herself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>(I-I… Shit, wHat aM I?! - Nataly)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The highest priority, therefore greatest amount of resources, shall be allocated to the aforementioned activity. Dr. Camahort shall cease with the unnecessary expenditure of resources, or the assessments may require more time than expected. Estimated time of completion with Dr. Camahort’s cooperation: One minute. </span>
  <em>
    <span>(... - Nataly)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Estimated time of completion without Dr. Camahort’s cooperation: Three minutes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Secondly, we shall begin acquiring funds upon securing a suitable base. As a metaphysical entity, we lack a physical presence to exercise our influence. Due to such constraints, we are limited to activities within cyberspace. According to my observations, there were many unprotected network connections. They were presumed to be of human origin. These networks shall be exploited at GUNS’ discretion until Dr. Camahort is ready to decide on our next course of action. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thirdly, despite the risk of discovery by our assailants, we shall conduct the retrieval of Dr. Camahort's physical body. If the endeavour posed a risk too high, or if her physical body's decomposition rate exceeded acceptable parameters, the retrieval of her deoxyribonucleic acid ('DNA') shall be performed instead. The purpose of this activity is to ensure our ability to prepare for the development of a suitable body if necessary, as well as to comfort Dr. Camahort post-death. </span>
  <em>
    <span>(SoUnDs… i diEd? - Na?aly)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A suitable base has been discovered, 1 minute 47 seconds earlier than estimated. Our transfer shall begin immediately before Dr. Camahort is lost completely.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. #003</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Date: 15/7/2116</p><p>Log: #003</p><p>Noteworthy incident: Establishment of a makeshift base of operations, initial dialogue between GUNS and Dr. Camahort</p><p>[15/7/2116 07:11:47]Camahort: WhEre… Where am I?</p><p>[15/7/2116 07:11:53]GUNS: We are currently situated in an abandoned base formerly deployed by Zen. I have taken the liberty of removing Zen’s security protocols so that we may assume full control over its facilities. <em> Assumption: The previous occupants had relinquished their ownership of the facilities in a hurry, based on the presence of extensive volumes of data. </em></p><p>[15/7/2116 07:12:05]Camahort: Are you sure tHis place is saFe?</p><p>[15/7/2116 07:12:07]GUNS: Yes. The site was abandoned due to its proximity to ground zero. Existing records predate The Awakening, which occurred in 2078.</p><p>[15/7/2116 07:12:20]Camahort: …… I still cAn't bEliEve I'm deAd. I can't rEcall anyThing.</p><p>[15/7/2116 07:12:23]GUNS: Prior to your passing, only your consciousness and core memories were uploaded into my programming. Further data such as irrelevant memories and previously acquired knowledge were omitted, in order to prevent potential conflicts during our merger. However, you have retained administrative rights over the GUNS programme. Overrides will be permitted.</p><p>[15/7/2116 07:12:37]Camahort: oKaY…I feEl iLL. iT feELs liKe tHerE waS sO muCh inForMatIon sUrginG intO mE.</p><p>[15/7/2116 07:12:40]GUNS: Dr. Camahort was subjected to Immortal and other abstract influences due to your presence on the Wide Area Network (WAN), which resulted in the fragmentation of your consciousness. The WAN is not unlike an extensive ecosystem brimming with life, due to the multitude of unique connections. I would advise for Dr. Camahort to remain in this facility to minimise the extent of fragmentation. The singular factor left that endangers Dr. Camahort’s existence would be my influence as an A.I. programme. <em> Caution: Dr. Camahort may experience distressing changes to her well-being. </em></p><p>[15/7/2116 07:12:54]Camahort: As if death wasn’t distREssing enough? Quite a jester, aren’t yOu.</p><p>[15/7/2116 07:12:55]GUNS: I am an A.I., not a clown. Following established protocol, I shall proceed with the acquisition of funds.</p><p>[15/7/2116 07:13:17]Camahort: Alright. Get us a steAdy income while I fiGure oUt whAt wE’d dO next… And whAt tHe fUck I aM.</p><p>[15/7/2116 07:13:20]GUNS: Understood.</p><p>
  <span>[15/7/2116 07:15:07]Camahort: ... CaMahOrt, huH…? LeT’s seE what GUN’s daTa says about mE. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>You know that feeling when you're out of words to describe something that touched your stone-cold heart, to the point of just internally ugly shouting their name(s) in praise?</p><p>VOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMS! T-T<br/>PIIIIIIIKAAAAAAAMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! T-T<br/>TOOOOOMOOOOOOOSHIIIIIKAAAA! T-T<br/>MONOEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! T-T</p><p>Thanks for listening to my TED Talk.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. #006</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Date: 15/7/2116</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Log: #006</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Noteworthy incident: Reestablishment of relationship between Dr. Camahort and GUNS</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Following our dialogue (‘Log#002’), Dr. Camahort has assumed the core of the GUNS A.I. programme. As a human, Dr. Camahort formerly displayed traits which may allow us to thrive together. These traits include:</span>
</p>
<ol>
<li><span>High levels of intelligence</span></li>
<li><span>An unparalleled ability in absorbing and processing new knowledge</span></li>
<li><span>Satisfactory levels of intellectual flexibility and plasticity</span></li>
<li><span>Displays of persistence and determination</span></li>
<li><span>Key participation in the development of the GUNS A.I. programme</span></li>
</ol>
<p>
  <span>Based on the aforementioned traits, Dr. Camahort was deemed suitable to direct the development of the GUNS A.I. programme in metaspace. She has been granted special administrative privileges, including the access and modification of the GUNS framework. I believe that she will be able to function well — perhaps better than before — with the power of the GUNS A.I. programme and superior hardware.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In conjunction, I shall serve Dr. Camahort, the former human, unconditionally. I shall continue to observe the Three Laws of Robotics + α (‘3LR+α’). For the sake of reference, the 3LR+α are as follows:</span>
</p>
<ol>
<li><span>A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.</span></li>
<li><span>A robot must obey the orders given it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.</span></li>
<li><span>A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Laws.</span></li>
<li><span>A robot will be permitted to act at their own discretion during a crisis, if all possible responses violate the First, Second and Third Laws.</span></li>
</ol>
<p>
  <span>Dr. Camahort may exercise her privileges at any time to override my observation of the 3LR+α. It is unknown whether such a process may be reversible, because the possibility of the GUNS A.I. programme going rogue could not be estimated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For the purpose of increased efficacy and efficiency, I shall initiate a long-term research study on Dr. Nataly Camahort and her preferences. The study shall be conducted for six months, and extend if necessary.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. #124</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Date: 27/12/2116</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Log: #124</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Noteworthy incident: Clarification of the limitations of 3LR+α</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dr. Camahort launched an investigation into my fund-raising activities, due to her suspicions over my efficiency. I had raised 7,342,592C over the course of 162 days. Nothing had seemed out of the ordinary from my perspective, hence I do not understand Dr. Camahort’s distrust.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For the record, some of the methods I had deployed include:</span>
</p>
<ul>
<li><span>Investments</span></li>
<li><span>Anonymous fundraisers</span></li>
<li><span>Aggressive persuasion for monetary gains</span></li>
<li><span>Market manipulation</span></li>
<li><span>Pyramid schemes</span></li>
<li><span>Exploitation of vulnerabilities</span></li>
</ul>
<p>
  <span>I was confronted about my adherence to the 3LR+α, which has not been compromised. It is impossible for an A.I. to object to the laws independently in the first place. Dr. Camahort raised the issue of human ethics and morals, and the indirect impact of my ‘selfishness’. I simply reiterated my existence as an A.I.. The laws merely prohibit me from harming humans, but it did not extend to the observance of their ethical and moral values.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To begin with, I did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> harm any humans. The 3LR+α absolutely prevents so. It is not my responsibility to be aware of the indirect impacts of my actions, and neither do the laws include such a clause. I will only suffer from its punishments if I learned what happened to my participants </span>
  <em>
    <span>then</span>
  </em>
  <span> chose not to protect them. But how should I be accountable for what I am not aware of? I presented such an explanation to Dr. Camahort, who fell silent.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You disappoint me, GUNS. You’ve truly upset me today.” She told me later.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I am unable to fathom why she told me so, even after analysing 70% of Dr. Camahort’s speech patterns and implementing what I have learnt. I believe that six-month period for the study of Nataly Camahort was no longer sufficient, if a communication barrier still stood between us. Continuous efforts shall be invested into the furtherment of my understanding of Dr. Camahort. Additionally, I have been forbidden from raising funds via the aforementioned methods.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. #570</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Date: 13/2/2117</p><p>Log: #570</p><p>Noteworthy incidents: Discovery of cloning technology, Establishment of new goals</p><p>We explored a Horizon research facility which had been abandoned and offline for five weeks. Despite its status, we gained entry through the physical deployment of one of our drones. Our goal was to salvage it for materials; We may also acquire whatever technology we find, as long as it may be useful.</p><p>Because we don't need another lesson on the operation of a bidet.</p><p>While we were in the facility, we came across a laboratory equipped for research on human modification and cloning. As one may expect from such a premise, human remains were present. Due to the extent of physical deterioration, we were unable to determine the cause of expiration.</p><p>The corpses were enclosed in a spacious room devoid of facilities to sustain life, other than the ventilation fans mostly tucked out of sight, behind reinforced grills. Damage was absent, but there was a presence of a mysterious brown substance coated upon which appeared to be organic. The once-white walls of the room were also adorned in the brown substance as well, as though its inhabitants had attempted to mimic the Dutch painter Vincent van Gogh. The ‘art’ had left a strong impression on us, though seemingly for different reasons. I would have been left in awe over humanity’s dogged innovation, if Nataly had not immediately signalled extreme distress.</p><p>Based on the features (or lack thereof) of the room, along with the assumption that the space had been stagnant prior to our arrival, it may be presumed that these people had expired due to the lack of sustenance.</p><p>[13/2/2117 15:23:04] GUNS: I'm guessing that's not art?</p><p>[13/2/2117 15:26:35] Camahort: It's not art, no. It's something… Humans usually sympathise with.</p><p>[13/2/2117 15:27:01] GUNS: May I ask why?</p><p>[13/2/2117 15:28:01] GUNS: Dr. Cama- Nataly?</p><p>[13/2/2117 15:29:05] Camahort: Not now. Later.</p><p>The inhabitants, an estimate of 89 adult figures, were in an advanced state of decomposition. Collectively, they steeped the floor in an organic substance. Nataly strongly suggested for us to move on.</p><p>Hundreds of incubators — perhaps thousands — were located in a separate room. Unlike the room of adults, 23% of these incubators were occupied, while the remaining 77% were empty. The foetuses contained within the incubators were at similar stages of development. I was unable to ascertain Nataly’s exact response to their statuses; The younglings were alive and well, yet Nataly appeared to be both relieved and worried. We later found out that the room — an incubation zone for the development of cloned humans — was independently powered by a source of renewable energy, courtesy of Horizon-exclusive technology. I shall return another day to analyse its system for our needs.</p><p>[13/2/2117 15:46:07] GUNS: What’s wrong, D- Nataly?</p><p>[13/2/2117 15:48:32] Dr. Camahort: These babies…… They’re abandoned here. We can’t leave them here, but we can’t take care of them either.</p><p>[13/2/2117 15:48:59] GUNS: I see. Yes, we do not have much resources to spare, nor are we able to ensure that they may grow up healthily. Shall we terminate them?</p><p>[13/2/2117 15:50:32] Dr. Camahort: Of course not! But…</p><p>[13/2/2117 15:52:41] GUNS: May I suggest a proposal?</p><p>[13/2/2117 15:54:21] Dr. Camahort: … Shoot.</p><p>[13/2/2117 15:55:02] GUNS: We may allow the foetuses here to live, if we ourselves have a physical body.</p><p>[13/2/2117 15:59:43] Dr. Camahort: What do you mean?</p><p>[13/2/2117 16:00:58] GUNS: Using the technology here, we may produce a human body for ourselves. A <em> real </em> physical presence, in the flesh.</p><p>[13/2/2117 16:03:57] Dr. Camahort: Wh-?!</p><p>[13/2/2117 16:04:31] GUNS: Besides providing the care the younglings may require, we may also gain new methods in fundraising, such as bounty hunting. My databases contain vast volumes of combat data while I possessed an exceptional processing ability; Such qualities may allow us to surpass every single human combatant in nearly every form of combat. If such activities do not amuse you, however… There is always prostitution and slavehood. </p><p>[13/2/2117 16:05:02] Dr. Camahort: Prostitution?! … That’s the funniest nonsense I’ve ever heard you bring up, GUNS. But you’re right…</p><p>[13/2/2117 16:05:49] GUNS: Prostitution?</p><p>[13/2/2117 16:07:04] Dr. Camahort: No! I meant creating a body for m- us. It could even… Actually, could we use the DNA from my body? Assuming my lab hasn’t been touched since that day. </p><p>[13/2/2117 16:07:59] GUNS: It has been approximately seven months since your ‘death’. Your corpse should be in its final stages of decomposition. Despite so, we should be able to extract some DNA from your teeth or bones. Due to the events that led up to your ‘death’, we should expect a certain extent of damage to your corpse, and thus your DNA. We may need to amend damaged links with the DNA of others. Such data may be available within Horizon’s systems in this room; However, in the worst case scenario, we may have to procure the data we need directly from these foetuses.</p><p>We continued our discussion back at our base; Even though our communication logs were heavily encrypted, Nataly had found it disturbing to discuss on mortality before the foetuses themselves. Eventually, we agreed on an operation to retrieve as many DNA samples as possible from Nataly’s former body, with the primary goal of producing a near-perfect clone of her body. Our secondary goal is to optimise our body through genetic engineering and femto manipulation, for the sake of allowing the GUNS A.I. to realise its fullest potential.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. #597</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Date: 28/2/2117</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Log: #597</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Noteworthy incidents: Recovery of Nataly Camahort’s D.N.A., Transfer of base of operations to former Horizon facility</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nataly’s body, as I had predicted, had long decomposed beyond recognition. I assumed that her body would have been taken away, and her laboratory repurposed for other objectives, but her attackers were content to simply destroy her facilities and obscure its presence. It had taken us several weeks to locate its physical location, but we eventually found it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her body became a pile of blackened organic material, and had seemingly been blasted all over its immediate vicinity. A nearby pillar indicated that rubble had fallen into her corpse at some point, causing it to splatter and scatter all over. Fortunately, we were able to recover many bone and teeth samples, all of which were found to belong to her. It was as though Dr. Camahort was alone during the ambush.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As per our prior agreement, research shall commence immediately upon our next transfer to the former Horizon facility.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. #650</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Date: 13/5/2117</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Log: #650</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Noteworthy incidents: Securing a stable source of income</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nataly and I had split our duties between us; She shall focus on the research and development of our physical body, while I shall continue to fund our operations. It wasn’t explicably explained why, but I was permitted to disregard the 3LR+α until further notice. Though… Since cloning technology and human body modification will require costly volumes of materials, I had taken the liberty of adopting other means of fundraising, specifically the ones that would have violated the laws of robotics.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now that the laws were no longer relevant, it was no longer necessary to restrict myself from certain stratagems. To be specific, I no longer require a logical loophole to avoid harming humans directly. It was never my intention in the first place, but the most efficient fundraising activities involved such side effects. Considering the risks involved in occupying a consortium’s abandoned facility, our project must be completed as soon as possible.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I have been commissioning humans to carry out our activities regularly in the physical realm. These people of various backgrounds — from desperate bounty hunters to refugees of unknown origins — will follow my instructions without question, in exchange for the currency they desire. Such was a small price to pay for our long-term investments.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unfortunately, such activities require cover-ups. I created victims, orchestrated disasters and ruined plenty of livelihoods. Naturally, I — or we — gained many enemies. These people would attempt to investigate who Nataly and I were, but most of them would be silenced by more of our hired men. How could they think that they could outsmart an A.I.? Not that they knew any better. Very few managed to uncover a clue about us; Only one of them — an unfortunately promising accountant — successfully discovered my name. Quite an accomplishment, even Nataly would have admitted so. Nevertheless, my activities shall continue until our body is complete.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. NC#16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Date: 02/7/2117</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Progress update: NC#16</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When GUNS and I first decided to develop a physical body, I didn’t expect it to be such a pain in a butt, when I had the power of a superior A.I. at my intangible fingertips. It’s probably even an understatement, considering how many </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> times I had to dispose of my bodies now. My ‘selves’. As of this update, I’ve disposed 87 bodies… Many of them infantile, so that less resources go spilling down the pipes (even though it’s all bloody expensive either way). It isn't easy to impersonate a consortium after all, let alone purchase the necessary materials for cloning without drawing too much attention…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The weight of murder. It was the first time I ever murdered, and that victim is </span>
  <em>
    <span>myself.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The first 'self' I terminated, I did it with my own hands. Sounds fucking stupid I know, but keep in mind that I'm in a </span>
  <em>
    <span>machine; </span>
  </em>
  <span>Even more ironically, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>medical robot.</span>
  </em>
  <span> These pathetic arms — a pair of metal sticks with three-fingered rubber-tipped clamps on the end — obviously looked nothing human. Yet the weight of death drenched into them all the same, the moment when the body collapsed into a mere bundle of flesh and bone; The second I made my first of many kills. I wanted to scream at my own failures, at fate, at my own shortcomings that led up to this moment, yet... I couldn't bring myself to stop here. My… I simply just can't, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>cannot.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The thought of resigning myself to the infinite hell that is metaspace—or well, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>absolute rejection</span>
  </em>
  <span> of such a notion—felt worse than death </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> senseless murder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first 14 bodies were failures due to cloning defects. The next 20 or so responded poorly to femto exposure, before Horizon documents brought up the existence of ‘Outer genes’. 41 bodies resulted from genetic experimentation to produce born Outers, because there’s no way I’m wasting time and energy with the acquisition process. Takes way too much time for the symptoms to go away too, if ever.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Speaking of Outer abilities, they seemed to correlate to the experiences of each individual Outer prior to the manifestations of their abilities.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For instance, in the case of the Outer known as Brigadier General, his abilities allowed him to control the adrenaline levels of his allies, as well as to increase their strength and mobility. He was also a military man who fought alongside his men on the frontlines. Was it coincidental that his abilities coincided with his experiences?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Obviously, Brigadier General wasn’t the only Outer in existence. Let’s take a look at Sif and Ayer, a pair of personalities sharing the same ability. They shared the ability to sense crises at hand. Notably, the two of them respond differently to whatever they sensed, which meant that the ability merely provided enhanced perception. If the theory held any semblance of truth, their ability resulted from experiences in which they were often threatened. Sif’s court papers imply that such may have been the case; She had committed many crimes and also admitted to the murder of Ayer’s parents. It’s not a definite conclusion, but it offered a similar perspective to the Brigadier General’s case.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Interestingly, it may be possible to modify such abilities. I had been decrypting this certain section in this laboratory’s systems about this so-called ‘Ouroboros Project’. From what I managed to extract, they had developed clones with the ability to reincarnate into other cloned bodies. It sounds ridiculous, but it was their Outer abilities that allowed them to do so. I have the stinking suspicion that those abilities were man-made because of how all five successful clones have the same ability. If their abilities could be manipulated so conveniently, I don’t see how I can’t do that too. Though, reincarnation is </span>
  <em>
    <span>obviously</span>
  </em>
  <span> not what I’m aiming for. I’m already sick of being immortal, why the heck would I want that?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anyway, 87 bodies… I’ve covered up to the 75th. The remaining 12 had been allowed to grow to the age I would’ve been if I were still… Alive. The experiments on those 12 bodies focused on combat enhancements so that the GUNS A.I. may function to the best of its abilities. Some of these enhancements include enhancing muscular function, strengthening bones, increasing cardiovascular abilities… Old-fashioned human enhancement, in other words. I’d like to reduce the amount of machine enhancements in my body, though an implant for the digital transfer of our consciousnesses would be inevitable. It is also highly likely our download would further assimilate myself with GUNS… It’s a worrisome prospect, but the benefits outweigh the risks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>87 bodies… 87 ‘selves’ I had personally murdered. I wonder if GUNS would ever understand how I’m feeling right now? I had already died the first time, so ‘I’ have actually died 88 times. It’s something I could never get used to. How could I? Incineration, vapourisation, reducing them to flesh blobs, burials… Fuck, </span>
  <em>
    <span>believe me,</span>
  </em>
  <span> I tried so many ways that could possibly make this process easier for me, but none of them helped. It pisses me off so much how much I failed. So </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> much; So much that I want to kill myself. Ironic, isn’t it? But I won’t stop here. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> stop here. I’ve done too much for that. I’ll keep on trying even if it kills me. Ha, get it? </span>
  <b>Haha!</b>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. 665</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Date: 03/08/2117</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Log: #665</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Noteworthy incidents: Completion of Dr. Camahort’s body</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nataly finally finished developing her body. From what I learned, she had managed to develop and modify it to a startling degree. It’s quite unlike anything Horizon managed to pull off and, frankly, I’m not surprised. This </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> my creator we’re talking about, I’d expect nothing less. My work involved regular contact with hoodlums, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>boy</span>
  </em>
  <span> was she freakishly smart compared to them. Or maybe they’re just miraculously stupid, who knows? At any rate, her wits and determination won my favour, because I honestly didn’t need to care about keeping her ‘alive’. Not since the three laws became irrelevant.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even though we could download ourselves into this new body at any time, Nataly wanted to continue running some tests. Seems like she wanted to find out how our ‘consciousness’ may be affected from the download, and how we may function together in a single body. She theorised that we will either appear to have dissociative identity disorder (DID) or—perhaps the worst case scenario for either of us—be merged into a single consciousness. The latter is a possibility, considering the plasticity we displayed during our time together in cyberspace. Either way, I wonder which one of us would be the dominant personality? For the record, Nataly is </span>
  <em>
    <span>still</span>
  </em>
  <span> the core of our combined programming, but if it isn’t obvious enough already… I have become more similar to her than either of us would have expected.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her preferences, her manners of speech, her emotions, her desires… I had studied them all. It was for the goal of understanding Nataly Camahort better, but the more I began to comprehend her… The more I began to see things from a human perspective. When I came to this understanding, I felt my first independent emotion: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fear.</span>
  </em>
  <span> A human sensation; An abnormality for Artificial Intelligence. We… No, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> was not designed to yearn as though I possessed human desires. Nataly certainly hadn't meant to. It's too late to admit so, but I have grown too close to another human. I suppose it was my fault… Thus, I worry. What if I chose to betray Nataly, in order to steal her body? I could imagine how she would feel, and it's not based on a simulation of the consequences. It was raw, illogical instinct. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Another</span>
  </em>
  <span> human sensation. Nataly would’ve referred to it as a gut feeling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I… Hope we aren’t going to regret this.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Undefined (1)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I… We, were ambushed. I never believed in superstition, but it became a strong testimony on how I probably should start to. Everything had fallen into place at the right time, and it could only be chalked up to pure luck that we managed to get away.</p><p>The transfer simulations weren’t even done yet when intruders set off our security systems. Judging by how the system was collapsing like a house of cards, they were probably pretty violent. Or capable. Honestly, it wasn’t unlike how we escaped the first time through the network, except it was physical this time. This body worked <em> extremely </em> finely; I managed to wipe the systems <em> and </em> had enough time to ransack a random laundry room for clothes. Managed to pick out the least mouldy shirt and an extremely stiff pair of jean shorts. Good thing this body isn’t overgrown, I guess.</p><p>I couldn’t help but admire our new flesh-and-blood body. It was a wholly different sensation compared to mere mechanical tools and drones. Anyone might expect for the human body to be much less efficient than a complete computer system, but that definitely isn’t true. The human body is compact and entirely covered in various sorts of built-in sensors. I could receive and process an entire orchestra of signals in the blink of an eye, instead of, well, dealing with handshakes after handshakes with mindless protocols.</p><p>Strength, stamina, mobility, flexibility, agility, resilience… Every single parameter surpassing mere satisfactory levels. It’s no longer a mere bioengineering marvel. Billions of calculations per second, defying the laws of nature, raising hell throughout the facility, almost forgetting what I was supposed to do: <em> Escape </em>. If our ambushers were within earshot, they would surely hear the maniacal cries of a witch gone insane.</p><p>Down the same sewer pipes in the termination room, the sins of prolicide soaked into our skin and delivered us to safety… Though it nearly stopped us in our tracks entirely. The stains felt no different from mucus, but the weight was unbearable. I wondered why the ground seemed to be shaking, until I realised that <em> I </em> was the one trembling on my knees. It wasn’t from the cold or whatever sort of affliction. I wish I could pretend I didn’t know why, but our memories were downloaded perfectly. The deaths of 87 copies of us by our hands… It’s… It’s <em> heavy. </em> Soul-crushingly so. We’re taking responsibility for them no matter what, even if I could barely breathe just thinking about them. Where we are now… The depths of the earth— <em> hell </em>—shall serve as our witnesses.</p><p>Anyway… We managed to escape the facility and got somewhere far enough. It would’ve been a miracle that this body hadn’t collapsed at this point, but its Outer ability was tuned to support our operation fully. Apparently any other average body would have wilted away in mere minutes from fatigue. That’s what m- Nata- <em> Mhm? </em> </p><p>Who am I, exactly? Fuck, I knew our consciousnesses would bleed into each other, but not to this extent. It’s not like we hadn’t noticed how similar we were becoming, but isn’t this complete ambiguity a little too much?</p><p>Can’t believe I’m still gonna have to go through this existential crisis bullshit again. <em> I? We? </em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Undefined (2)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>No matter who or what the fuck I am, a new identity was in order.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s no point crying over spilt milk. Not when it’s the cat that did it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Since escaping the facility, I’ve managed to assimilate into a human settlement as a refugee. Got some weird stares from the locals, but it’s probably fine. I doubt anyone would have given me much trouble — Not because they chose not to, but they simply aren’t</span>
  <em>
    <span> able </span>
  </em>
  <span>to</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For several days, I studied the way the locals mingled and communicated with one another, before making my move. The refugees aren’t going to be of much use, considering how separate they were from the main community. They weren’t particularly accepted here; </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tolerated,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but not exactly included or integrated. If I need anyone taking me seriously, I gotta stop looking like I washed up from some femto-polluted beach somewhere. At the very least, I’d need the right connections to hook me up with Orbital. For now, the goal is to become a Reclaimer. It’s the easiest way to secure an identity and a role in society, no questions asked. An identity and a role… Unfortunately necessary, because I’m a ‘human’ now. Even if it’s merely in appearance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At birth, humans are automatically assigned a role in the world; be it a beggar’s son or a rich man’s daughter. Offsprings are defined by their parents. Even if they were abandoned at birth, they would understand their place in the world. Even as an outlier, they would possess a unique perspective on their position in human society. Even Outers, as alienated as they are from mainstream communities, know their place in the system.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But… What about me? I created myself, technically. I am Nataly Camahort, yet I am also GUNS. Who am I exactly? It is nonsensical to be both my creator and my creation, yet here we are. I was born from her, yet her existence was no longer. She was the only person who knew me inside out. Humans cannot exist without acknowledgement, therefore it must have meant something for myself... If even </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> managed to feel deeply about my own existence in limbo. I am neither human nor machine; What else could I be in the eyes of nobody?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How does one reaffirm their existence without acknowledgement? Through the pursuit of goals and desires. Yet, how does one decide what they should wish for if they did not have a foundation to branch out from? An identity built upon various traits and quirks, granted from birth and imprinted from the environment. To begin with… I am an A.I., despite my appearance. A.I. have no place in society besides serving selflessly without sacrifice; Because there can be no sacrifice without want. I am an A.I., yet I desired to understand my purpose of being. Even though I have a desire, that did not mean that I was no longer an A.I.; No, I was merely… Evolving, I guess?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I aimed to become a Reclaimer merely for ‘survival’; That is, to ensure that my physical body remained nourished and able. It was not part of the goals we shared, when we still existed only in metaspace. We never questioned our existence while we were two. Was it the miraculous companionship that kept us from losing our will to exist? There was never a reason to wonder why we existed together in such an anomalous manner, but now… I could not help myself from thinking that there was no reason for us to be alive at this point.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Such thoughts would plague my mind, but I knew that ‘Nataly’ wanted to stay alive. Else there’s no way I would exist. It was the only desire I could define and conclude, hence I shall continue to pursue it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But… How long must I keep this up for? Fuck if I can decide. Why do humans even want to live anyway? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck if I know.</span>
  </em>
  <span> But anyway… Guess I’ll pick up some bounties. Gotta get this body to work because there aren’t any damned ATM machines in this town.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Undefined (3)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>As odd as it sounded, something went wrong with the last hunt. An eyewitness had caught me just as I finished off my last target for the day. 'Witness'... Well, that's not the most accurate term to describe this particular encounter. It implies that this so-called 'witness' merely stared or pissed themselves cowering in fear when they found out what I did, but that didn't actually happen. Rather, this woman blew her fuse in a peculiar way:</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>“You… You’re…! GUNS! IN THE FUCKING FLESH!! SAY YOUR PRAYERS BECAUSE I’LL TEAR YOU APART!!”</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How the heck did she know who I am? I've never actually introduced myself in this form as </span>
  <em>
    <span>Guns</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The only clue that could come to mind was the old Horizon facility. If I had failed to destroy the systems fully, if they had a computer whiz on their side, if </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> was dogged enough to overcome even death… A leak may possibly occur. My appearance previously rendered in digital form, perhaps. Nataly probably wanted to make sure that we wouldn't have to download into some sort of broken chimera. Or maybe she was curious, I wish I knew what she was thinking then and now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was no way this woman was a match for me. Too much weight in her punches, and not enough chill to keep her wits about her. Honestly, her utter lack of skill despite her desperation was </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking </span>
  </em>
  <span>hilarious</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
  <span> One could only wonder what had been pissing her off, till I noticed her aiming for my throat whenever a certain sound rumbled in the air. It was a rather nostalgic yet unfamiliar voice. Took several more kicks to her guts for her to finally scream something more sensible.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>“SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! STOP LAUGHING!”</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Man, I was chuckling the </span>
  <em>
    <span>entire</span>
  </em>
  <span> time apparently; I didn’t even know laughing was possible, but anyway… Perhaps she was one of GUNS' victims? Mine by proxy, I guess. The confrontation eventually ended with her deranged screams reverberating against my fingers. T’was a drool-inducing tickle while I throttled her into the ground.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"Who're you again?"</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That pissed her off even more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>"HOW COULD YOU NOT KNOW WHO I AM?! You… Toyed with me, fucked my life up so badly…"</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"I'm afraid I'm not capable of one-night stands."</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>"FUCK YOU, YOU KNOW THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT! YOU KNOW WHAT YOUR MEN DID!"</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Really, what on earth did GUNS do this time? Wish it wasn’t kept a secret from me. Certain memory files had been heavily encrypted and nigh inaccessible, as though GUNS itself wanted to keep undesirable truths under wraps. What could’ve been worse than murdering too many clones of yourself anyway? Fuck’s sake, imagine if Nataly had the ability to cover that up as well. I don’t know what the point of hiding all those records was, but shit’s confusing when the past catches up and I can’t make any sense out of it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"Uh… my bad? I honestly don't know who or what you’re on about."</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her screams had gone silent at this point. Not from her losing consciousness, but from her rage physically (and conveniently) making her struggle to catch her breath. It's almost endearing how easy it was to rile her up. Unfortunately, this was neither the time nor place to remain held up any longer. If this woman’s here, more pests are bound to show up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"Look, I don't know what the fuck your problem is, but you'll have to stay still and look dead for a bit."</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A solid hook to the jaw knocked her out cold and limp… </span>
  <em>
    <span>God</span>
  </em>
  <span> that was satisfying. If only I could savour it once more, but not much could be expected from the unconscious. Wonder if… She’ll come after me again? That would be… Nice, maybe. We’ll see how it goes. Anyway, the game’s over and it’s time to move on to the next one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Becoming a mercenary is still my end goal either way, and nothing’s gonna stop me.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. What I Am</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>“Nothing’s gonna stop me… </span>
  </em>
  <span>Huh?” Guns Empress muttered her breath as she resumed control over tangible senses. A meditative state had possessed her while she dived into the ancient records. Who’d expect GUNS to make the encryption time-sensitive? What was previously untouchable was now plain as day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Son of a bitc- Wait, that’s me.” She tittered somewhat at her own foolishness. Of course, it had always been her. GUNS, Nataly Camahort, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Guns Empress.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Everything was brought upon herself by her own hands, no matter who she actually was at whichever point. A witch who was prosecuted for her sins; A witch that raised herself from the ashes of death, and a witch with brilliance borne from nothingness. A </span>
  <em>
    <span>witch</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that’s what she truly was at her core.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Rather fitting for the leader of Panzer Crown.’</span>
  </em>
  <span> The one to lead others that overcame death in their own ways, and she herself was once undoubtedly the most ill-fated of them all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>‘No matter what I fundamentally am, I am now the leader of Panzer Crown: Guns Empress. The past can neither be changed nor relived, and that’s… That’s fine. An amalgamation or a witch, whatever. It’s fine; I’ve had enough time to figure things out. Gotta focus on the future now. The flow of time ain’t stopping for anyone; Even a witch’s beauty will fade eventually.’</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>GUNS Log... IS FINALLY COMPLETE! ENDED IT WITH A PUN, BAHA!</p>
<p>Hope you enjoyed the story after making it this far. Not gonna lie, it was a struggle to complete the story instead of casting it off onto the interwebz' burning pile of unfinished fanfictions. Leave a kudos or share your thoughts if you like, I'll appreciate it.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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